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2013.06.01 - What We Are
As he enters the Terminal with a FedEx uniform, a bright red goatee, and a thick manila envelope, Xavin's body swiftly contracts and contorts; the smock, shirt and pants all melt into his usual purple and black military garb, while his pale skin and bright red hair darken several shades until, maybe ten feet past the threshold, the brown-skinned Skrull is finally, fully himself again. He'd called Hawkeye early this morning to let her know that he'd be by later with a surprise; it's a good ten minutes after their scheduled meeting, though, so the /first/ thing he offers the archer is a mumbled, "Sorry. Work--ran--late," as he approaches her. The second is the envelope, delivered with the help of an impossibly stretchy limb; it's full of hand-drawn diagrams, a few notes with suggestions for things to work on with the teammembers he's more familiar with, and pages of hand-written notes on strategy and instructions for various kinds of drills, practice maneuvers, and so on. It's all been photocopied for convenience; the originals are currently hidden in a dumpster behind a nearby bakery. Apparently, he didn't quite get the memo about not being a military unit. "I hope /you're/ having a good day," he adds with a small, thin-lipped frown. And yes, Hawkeye is at The Terminal. And yes, she is in costume. And to be honest, when Xavin called to set up this meeting, Kate wasn't sure what to think of it. Heck, as she sits there, one a chair in front of the computer, and she receives that 'package' as she turns, she still isn't sure what to think. It isn't until she starts to glance at the document that she's given that well, she even really starts to form an opinion as she mutters a faint, "Interesting..." The problem with trying to distill 19 years worth of military training into something that others can benefit from: it's all second hand at /best/. Most of the diagrams have keys to explain the symbols - only some of which occur on more than one or perhaps two diagrams - but there are some mystery markings here or there too. Chunks of his notes and instructions actually use phrases like 'I think' and 'if I recall correctly'; others, like the ten page treatise on assembling a functional disguise via creative dumpster diving are just difficult to apply for individuals who aren't, say, natural-born shapeshifters. At least it's all /legible/. Mostly. Except for the places where--/something/--must have dripped or splattered onto the originals at some point before copying; at least none of the smudges are totally obfuscating any important words. "It's a foundation," he quietly explains as his arm retracts back to his body. "Something to build on, so that we're ready when we need to be--and so that whoever we find to help us train will know that we're taking this seriously." He keeps his eyes trained firmly on Kate while he speaks, quietly cursing those sunglasses for making it so much more difficult to gauge her reaction to the material. And yet, Kate is quietly thanking her 'sunglasses' as she reads through the notes. Or at least she is until she reaches one spot where she's looking at a diagram of a 'unique' formation, which prompts her to close her eyes, take off her sunglasses, and then in turn rub her temples. And yet all of this /could/ be useful. In multiple ways. "Xavin.... Should I even ask how long you spent working on this?" is asked in a polite, but matter of fact tone as those 'sunglasses' are slipped back on. "Or should I just assume that you spent every waking moment that you weren't at work over the last few days working on this?" As soon as the glasses go down - and Kate's hand comes /up/ - Xavin's brow knits, and rather than hawkishly watch his leader any further, he averts his eyes to the computer in front of her. "Months," he says, wariness unmistakable in his tone despite any attempt ad hiding his expression. "I... live in a very rough neighborhood; I needed ways to make sure my neighbors were safe." SOME TIME AGO "Emilio, Daniel," Xavin begins as he brandishes a club(actually a discarded table leg) before a pair of homeless Suicide Slum denizens slumped in front of him on a battered couch, "I want you to pay very close attention to what I'm about to show you; if a--a mugger were to ask for your--" His eyes flick between them. "--well, the point is: you may need to defend yourselves, and--" One of the men bolts suddenly upright with a loud snort; his eyes snap open and he stares straight at Xavin for a whole second, then two, then three... and then he slumps over to rest limply against his buddy, snoring peacefully and leaving Xavin to stare at them with a mixture of confusion and exasperation. NOW "Most of them weren't very receptive," he mutters, that familiar exasperation creeping into his voice. After a small gesture of dismissal, he brings his eyes back to Kate's and continues, "Anyway, our last meeting was obviously not the /first/ time I'd thought about what it might take to turn us into a more effective unit; I certainly did a lot of adding and--editing with what I'd already been compiling after I left that day,, though." "I... See..." is said as Hawkeye fights back rubbing the bridge of her nose. To be honest, there's only so much that she can say. Only so much she should say. And she knows that there are some things that really, really, really need to be said. But, before she can, she may as well ask a loaded question or two before she says it, just so she can hopefully say what needs to be said in a way that is clear and concise. "Why? I mean I understand wanting to help your friends, allies, and neighbors.... But why the military plans in regards to them?" Some of the diagrams are /clearly/ designed for alleyway encounters; there are even little trash can and dumpster symbols dotting them, ostensibly to add some cover to the maps. "If I were a doctor," Xavin quietly replies, keeping his tone flat rather than letting any more of his exasperation bleed through, "I would treat them whenever the evils of this world proved to be too much for them; if I were an architect, I would make sure that they had places to hide, and if I were a lawyer, I would do whatever I could to make sure that they knew justice if those evils found them anyway. But I am /none/ of those things, Hawkeye; I'm a /soldier/, and this--" Xavin reaches out to gently tap the dossier with his index finger. "--teaching the people around me to protect themselves--/this/ is what I have to offer. This is what I can do for them--for /you/." "The thing is... Those people aren't soldiers." is said in a solemn voice. "Some may have been at one point or another, but odds are most of them are not soldiers, and will never be soldiers." Then, Hawkeye slowly starts to get up, her gaze locked on the shapeshifter. "It's just like this team. None of us are soldiers either. Part of why we didn't have a 'chain of command' for a long time was because we're a team, and not soldiers. Hell, by most standards we're 'just kids', thus most of us can't serve in the military." "Give someone a weapon and a reason to fight," Xavin lowly begins as he draws his arm back in to eventually fold over his chest, "and he becomes a soldier, even if it's only for a day, an hour. A minute." He meets Kate's gaze, unflinching. "All of us - /all/ of us - just by virtue of /being/ here are soldiers at heart, Hawkeye, no matter /what/ your backwards military might say," he continues, keeping his voice gentle but firm, the way a teacher trying to communicate a difficult foreign concept to a student might. "And if we aren't, then we need to be. We came together to fight madmen and women who were ready to take our heads off - or /worse/ - if we misstepped; if that doesn't qualify as war to you, then you are lying to yourself." In a calm, but firm voice, Hawkeye slowly takes a step closer to Xavin while saying, "Do a lot of us have a purpose? Yes. A shared purpose? Yes. But we are not soldiers." She then glances away. "Nor are we police." "Nor are we warriors." "Nor are we heroes." Yes, she said that before glancing back, leveling a finger at the shape shifter. "We are what we are. As a group, and as individuals, we are trying to sort that out. Each and every one of us. Yes, some of us /may/ become soldiers. Yes, some of us may become heroes. But we are not any of those right now." "And yes, before you say it, many of those things are similar. They may use similar techniques and methods. They may train themselves and others in similar manners." Slowly the plans that Kate was looking at, which are still open to the page with the alley way plan is lifted up. "But we aren't any of those things yet. If anything, right now we're friends, trying to help figure things out. And the moment we try to force anyone on the team to be something that they are not, and they do not want to be is the moment we ruin what we have." Xavin's eyes - which are, by that point, narrowed, thanks to the preceding speech - barely twitch towards the diagram; he knows it well enough that it only really takes a quick peek to verify what Kate is holding up anyway. He makes no move to advance or retreat from Kate as she approaches him, preferring instead to stand firm--though he does pull one arm away from his chest so that he can lay a hand gently on her shoulder. "Then as one friend to another," the Skrull quietly and rather tightly replies, "I think that you should take a step back and think - carefully - about what, exactly, we're doing here, before one of us is forced to do so over the other's grave." There's a moment as Kate takes a deep breath as she casts a glance at her friend and ally. "Xavin, I do that every day. Every time I put this costume on. I think about what I do. I think about what happened that lead to me putting it on. hell... I've been doing that two or three times a day ever since you guys elected me the 'Leader' of this bunch." "But I'm no soldier. I know most of the others are. And while I might not know exactly what you really are... 'Tree Spirit', I know that unlike the rest of us, you are a soldier. How you fight, and how you act has said that since the very beginning. But the rest of us aren't. And trying to force us to be probably wouldn't work." "So... I ask you. If you were to take a step back as well. To /not/ consider yourself a soldier... What are you?" Xavin's response is immediate--and subtle; if they weren't face to face - if Kate were a less perceptive woman - it might even go unnoticed, but as it is, catching the way that the Skrull's eyes briefly widen when she blindsides him with that question shouldn't be much of a challenge. "I--" he begins before - a second of silence later - sliding his mouth shut and slowly withdrawing his hand. "That--" His brow briefly furrows as he searcehs for the right words. "That /is/ what I am; it's what I was /raised/ to be. It's--that question, it..." "--it doesn't make /sense/. You know /exactly/ who and what I am." "Yes, it does make sense. If you couldn't be a soldier anymore. If somehow you weren't a soldier anymore, then what would you be?" To Kate, that is a simple question. And a logical one. "That's kind of what every member of the team is dealing with in one form or another. That's what growing up in a world where you're not defined in a role... Or at least one where most people think you shouldn't be, like Earth works. We have to stop and think at times 'is this who I am? Is this who I want to be?'. Even those of us who are born to be something, be it a rich socialite, royalty, or any number of things can break free of that." "And I know you're my friend Xavin. To an extent that's all I've felt I had to know. Aside from that, I don't care. But just like how the rest of us can't force you to /not/ be a soldier, you can't up and force us to be soldiers. Instead though, we can work together. We can work together. We can learn from each other. We can become something greater. But by forcing people to be things they're not, be it individuals or groups, things won't work out." "I hope I'm making some sense here?" Kate's logical question is, to put it mildly, an existential quandary for the boy who was hatched to infiltrate, deceive and, most of all, make war, and given the cowardly circumstances behind his crashing on Earth at all, it's one he's done his fair share of wrestling with. Which is probably why Xavin doesn't even /try/ to formulate an answer to it now; it helps that Kate keeps on talking after posing it, and soon enough, they're back to territory that he can more or less handle. "Even /if/ none of you are warriors at heart," he quietly replies after swallowing, "there's no reason you couldn't learn to be warriors for a day. A minute. An hour." He tries to meet Kate's gaze again after repeating his earlier words, then adds, "However long it takes to make sure that you'll have the /chance/ to be--whatever it is you really are. If a soldier can spend some time as a tree while he gets to know new allies," A small, tight smile crosses his lips, and his head dips slightly in contrition for the months-old lie, "then why couldn't a socialite be a soldier for as long as it takes to keep herself safe?" Once that's said, the smile disappears entirely in favour of a pensive frown, and his eyes drift down again as that first question worms its way back into his thoughts. To be honest, Kate can't recall telling Xavin who she is, or what she is out of costume. Sure she wouldn't put it past him to guess what she is, and who she may be, especially since a shapeshifter probably would notice the details, but still... "Because some times one can never truly be safe. Sometimes we just have to try." "In some ways, most of us are already warriors. But what we aren't, what we can't force ourselves or each other is soldiers. And on this planet, in this reality, at this time, there is a world of difference between being a soldier and a warrior." Xavin begins to vocalize his disagreement with Kate's point almost as soon as she finishes making it. He even turns his frown on her rather than the floor, but he doesn't get much further than an indignant, "That--" before just clamping his jaw shut, exhaling sharply through his nose and looking to the Terminal's roof. "Fine," the alien begrudgingly murmurs a moment later. "Let's--agree to--disagree?" He makes a face after getting that out, as if the notion is foreign to him. There's a slight pause, then a nod at Xavin. "All right. But if you don't believe there is a difference, then we can always introduce you to Eddie's mother. Then we can introduce you both to a modern military base. And then she can tell you the differences." And with that said, Hawkeye takes another deep breath. "And please... Even if we disagree, you may want to stop and think as to what you are. Lord knows I've been doing it myself as of late a lot in regards to figuring out what I am." "I'm a soldier without an army, Hawkeye." /That/ response takes Xavin no time at all--even if his tone would, perhaps, suggest that he'd have rather said anything but. The alien slowly tilts his head down so that he's looking dead on at his teammate and leader again. Now that the fleeting exasperation of not quite seeing eye to eye with her has passed, his expression is pensive once more. "What is there to think about? Maybe I'll find a new one, or maybe not; I'll still be a soldier - a /warrior/ - either way." He punctuates this with a heavy sigh, then forces a tight smile upon his lips. "Anyway. Name the time and/or the military base; I'll be there." There's a slight nod at that, before Kate sighs. "I see." is said as she glances away for a moment. "Then let me ask you something else. Back where you came from, did you have any friends who were not soldiers? I'm not trying to be rude, but odds are you could learn a lot from people who aren't soldiers. Odds are you may of already in your time around us." Then there's a slight pause. "Maybe... Maybe we even could come up with some 'training' to even help you with that?" "Maybe; we could go... clubbing? Provided that we find a worthwhile target, of course," Xavin replies, brightening momentarily. "And no," he continues in a quieter voice, "not many. Most of us were soldiers almost from the day we were hatched; it's what you /did/." Beat. "/We/ did," he corrects. "It--was an honor," he adds a moment later. With a slight nod, Hawkeye says, "I believe some of the others may already be considering doing something like that. If they..." Pause. "We do it, I'll make sure you go along. If need be, I'll even take you to The Event Horizon myself if you really want to go clubbing." Then there's yet another pause as Kate bites her lower lip. "That's one thing between here and where you're from is different. But we already covered that ground. So maybe... I don't know. Part of me wants to say something about 'special training' again, or teaching you to enjoy life, but odds are you've been doing that already." "I enjoy life fine," Xavin quickly replies. "/I'm/ fine; I miss what I had, yes, but there's a whole world of of--of /food/, and /music/, and--/things/ that I never could have imagined on Tarnax VII." And the gloom hovering over him parts somewhat as he offers her a warm smile and lays a hand firmly on her shoulder. "And people who I never could have befriended if I'd stayed; I'm just fine. I swear." He retracts his hand then, and remarks, "Assimiliating into foreign cultures--it's something we learn about from a very young age, where I'm from," pretty much as an after-thought. "Anyway," he continues, switching gears to something a bit more pleasant than trying to convince Kate that he's capable of joy, "this Event Horizon: I accept." With a grin and a briefly, but exuberantly clenched fist, he adds, "We'll club the /hell/ out of the other clubbers." "Considering they're all from other worlds, you can try." Kate says teasingly. "But odds are a club closer to home with the team might be a better idea. First anyways." Then there's a nod, and that bit about 'assimilating into foreign cultures' is filed away for later, just in case it's ever needed. "Still, with all of that said, I want you to try and take charge of the combat training for the team. Just please, remember that we're not all soldiers, or even warriors." "Of course," Xavin briskly replies as the folder is encapsulated in an invisible field and floated towards him. "I'll... do my best to work with what I'm given." Once the papers snap into his left hand, he tentatively straightens his right hand out and just about gets it to his forehead before freezing, glancing sidelong at it and stiffly turning his wrist so that he's waving instead. "Thank you, Hawkeye," he says as he backs up to the Terminal entrance, "We'll--I'll--we'll be in touch." Category:Log